


Catharsis

by heartofstanding



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Catharsis, Figging, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Play Fighting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: Hal will only take a compliment is if Courtenay punishes him first.a.k.athe cathartic figging fic.
Relationships: Richard Courtenay (?-1415)/Henry V of England
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapleLantern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLantern/gifts).



> I blame MapleLantern for everything.

As Hal undressed, he smelt the warm scent of ginger and shuddered. Courtenay had peeled it while Hal watched, shaving the tough skin away and cutting off the offshoots from the central root. Now he would be smoothing the sides down or else carving a notch near one end to serve as a base. Hal swallowed. He untied the cord of his braes with nerveless fingers and pushed them down, leaving him only in a thin shirt.

‘Come here,’ Courtenay said.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside Courtenay, watched the sure way his hands moved and the flash of the knife in the sunlight. The smell was stronger, it seemed to itch at the back of Hal’s throat. He squirmed, his stomach tight with anticipation, and fisted his hands in his shirt. He felt as if he was too big for his skin. He felt as if he would burst.

Courtenay ran his finger down the side of the ginger and was satisfied. He took up the knife and bowl with the scraps and put them on the table, then washed his hands. The ginger, carved into the shape of a plug, lay on the covers next to Hal. He squirmed again, felt his cock twitch. How often had they done this? Enough that there was a kind of ritual to it.

Courtenay came back, cupped Hal’s face and kissed him.

‘Lie down,’ Courtenay said.

Hal obeyed, lying on his back and drawing his knees up. He stared up at the canopy of his bed, saw the dust caught in the sunlight. Courtenay’s hand stroked his calf, unbearably gentle.

‘You look wonderful like this.’

‘Stop it,’ Hal said. ‘Don’t do that.’

Courtenay’s expression was comically puzzled, his hand still moving in that awful tenderness. ‘Don’t do what?’

‘That – _that_.’

‘What?’

Courtenay kissed Hal’s ankle. Hal jerked back.

‘I’m not doing this,’ Hal said. ‘I’m not. You’re too – too nice.’

‘Maybe,’ Courtenay said, ignoring Hal’s swatting hands as he moved closer. ‘Maybe you deserve something nice in your life. For a change.’

Hal kicked him and Courtenay yelped. His face changed, became less benign and more intent. He caught one of Hal’s hands, Hal pulled away ineffectually, pretending to fight to retain the semblance of resistance. He was much stronger than Courtney; Courtenay would only win because Hal wanted to lose. They struggled together for a moment before Hal ended up on his belly, face pressed against the bed covers, and Courtenay’s knee pinning him down.

‘Beast,’ Courtenay said without rancour and breath.

That was more like it.

‘I hate you,’ Hal said.

‘Oh,’ Courtenay said. ‘That’s a pity.’

‘What, you’re not going to tell me that you love me?’

‘You know I do,’ Courtenay said and kissed Hal’s shaved nape.

Hal struggled ineffectually again, cursing. Courtenay pulled up the tails of his shirt and slapped Hal’s arse.

‘ _Ow._ ’

‘I thought that was the point?’ Courtenay said, voice teasing. He smacked Hal’s arse again and got off him. Hal stayed where he was, fingers curling into the covers – and still jumped when Courtenay moved between his legs and touched him, spreading his cheeks apart before rubbing the tip of the ginger against his hole.

‘You remember your signal?’

Hal rolled his eyes, feeling his hole twitch. ‘Yes.’

Courtenay said nothing. Hal groaned.

‘Mandeville,’ he said. ‘Are you going to do it or—’

He cut himself off sharply as Courtenay thrust the ginger inside him in one unrelenting push. His breath stuttered, gasped. Courtenay’s hand stroked down the length of his spine, settled in the small of his back. After a moment, Courtenay got up and left Hal alone with his body. Hal heard him at the table, washing his hands before sorting through the pile of books.

He was conscious of his hole spasming around the thin piece of ginger. It wasn’t wide enough to stretch him much and it felt like nothing in particular – he was conscious of it inside him and of clenching and unclenching around it, but nothing more. But then. He twitched. It was growing hotter, making his flesh tingle. Sweat broke out across his body and he squeezed down around the ginger, groaning as the warmth grew.

‘Hal,’ Courtenay said.

‘I’m fine,’ he mumbled.

Courtenay came back to the bed and sat down beside Hal. Hal squirmed until his head was resting on Courtenay’s thigh, his cheek against the plush velvet of Courtenay’s gown. He panted, felt Courtenay’s hand settle in his hair as if he would stroke it, and tensed. He didn’t think he could take the tenderness. But Courtenay removed his hand and opened up a book, casting a shadow over Hal’s face. He squinted, recognised the red cover: Marie de France.

‘ _Bisclavert_?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

Courtenay began to read the poem out loud. Hal tried to follow the words but soon gave up and let Courtenay’s voice wash over him. The warmth had turned to heat and became – uncomfortable. He kept squirming, feet slipping over the covers and thighs shaking, and the heat built and built. Tears sprang to his eyes, he pressed his face against Courtenay’s thigh and let them fall. Courtenay’s hand returned, rubbing circles on the back of his neck, and then his voice was quiet. He had finished, Hal realised, reading the poem.

‘Do you want it out?’ Courtenay said after a silence.

Hal raised his head to shake it.

‘Alright,’ Courtenay said. ‘Up.’

They moved again. Courtenay sat on the edge of the bed; Hal laid himself across Courtenay’s lap, shivering as the plug shifted inside him. Courtenay stroked a hand down his back, over his buttocks and thighs. Hal dug his teeth into his lip. He felt his breath moving through his chest, filling his lungs in small, panicky movements.

It sometimes frightened Hal how much he trusted Courtenay. It was not that the trust was unwise; he knew Courtenay would never harm him and he knew Courtenay loved him. Instead, it was the way Hal wanted to give himself to Courtenay, to press his body and soul into Courtenay’s hands and say: _I am yours, do as you will to me,_ and to be seen, entirely, with all the ugliest parts of himself visible. Yet it was easy to yield himself to Courtenay, to trust him in ways that should be impossible.

Courtenay’s hand lifted, swung down hard.

Hal cried out, feet kicking. He clenched down around the ginger, and it burnt hotter inside him. Courtenay struck him again and he forced himself to remain still, taking the full weight of the blow on his arse to avoid tensing around the ginger. A third blow landed before he could brace himself, the fourth quickly following. He let out a great cry as if expelling all air and thought from his body, and felt his face burn.

Courtenay struck him again and again. It was impossible to keep count; the blows were uneven, some coming in quick succession, some far apart. Hal was constantly moving between two different pains – the force of a strike, the burn of the ginger – never quite escaping the other. It hurt. But it felt good. As if he was being corrected. As if he was being scoured clean. Tears ran down his hot cheeks.

The blows stopped. He tensed, groaning as the burn grew worse, and waited for Courtenay’s hand to come down hard on his buttocks. Instead, he whimpered when Courtenay’s fingers brushed against the crease of his arse and then the plug was pulled from him. Courtenay pulled him up into his arms, kissing his brow and holding him.

‘You did so well,’ Courtenay said. ‘So well.’

Hal trembled and hid his face in the crook of Courtenay’s neck.

‘You are _so_ good,’ Courtenay said. 

Hal sobbed, wanting to believe it. He wanted to be good, he wanted to be good so badly. Courtenay stroked his hair, rubbed his back.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I love being with you – talking with you, holding you. You’re clever and funny and sweet. And I know you don’t believe me but I know you and that’s what I see. I see _you,_ Hal, and I love you.’

Hal shuddered. He hated the words, didn’t believe them but he couldn’t find the strength or will to resist them.

‘Hal,’ Courtenay said.

Nothing else, just his name, and Hal clung to him, pressed himself closer.

*

Courtenay stripped the shirt off Hal and laid him down on the bed. Hal watched hazily as Courtenay undressed himself in swift, sure movements before coming back to him. He liked watching Courtenay, he was a beautiful man. His hair gleamed in the sun and his body – soft, pliable but stronger than it seemed – moved with a neat grace. The idea that Courtenay did not want him sometimes pulled at Hal. Love was not attraction, was not desire. His own body was not unattractive, long and lean, but he did not look as he should – he did not look like how people thought a soldier or prince should – and the scar had made his face hideous.

Courtenay’s fingers pressed against his face and Courtenay kissed him.

‘I love you.’

‘Of course you do,’ Hal said.

Courtenay grinned at him. ‘I’m glad to hear you admit it.’

‘Smugness doesn’t suit you.’

Courtenay straddled him, pressing his buttocks against Hal’s cock. ‘It hardly matters. You were amazing. You are amazing.’

The words went straight to Hal’s cock and he flushed, feeling it stiffen. Courtenay’s eyes danced and he leant back, rubbing himself against Hal’s cock. Hal hissed, his erection hardening even further.

‘You take good care of me,’ he said. ‘I don’t—'

‘You deserve it,’ Courtenay said and kissed Hal before he could argue.

When they parted, he touched Hal, hands cupping his shoulders, fingers finding the spaces between Hal’s ribs and then nails scratching lightly at Hal’s nipple. His mouth laid rows and columns of kisses down Hal’s chest, over his belly. Hal held onto Courtenay’s shoulders and cried out when Courtenay licked his cock, eyes screwing shut.

It was a teasing lick, over the head and then down the underside before Courtenay moved on, burying his mouth in the crease of Hal’s thigh and moving up again until he was leaning over Hal, his green eyes bright as they watched Hal’s face. Then he shifted, reaching out to find the bottle of oil.

‘No,’ Hal said. ‘Let me, please?’

Courtenay glanced at him, face flushed and nodded. He poured oil over Hal’s hands and Hal sat up, reaching to press his fingers against Courtenay’s hole and push in. He felt Courtenay’s cock brush against his chest and bent to take the leaking head into his mouth and suck at it.

‘Oh, _oh_ ,’ Courtenay said, his hips moving forwards and then back. ‘Hal, Hal.’

Hal smiled around Courtenay’s cock, his erection throbbing. He pushed his fingers deeper into Courtenay, sucked harder at Courtenay’s cock and felt Courtenay’s hand move through his hair, squeezing.

‘That’s so good,’ Courtenay said. ‘Your _mouth_. Hal.’

Hal leant back, kissing the tip of Courtenay’s prick and glanced up at Courtenay. His cheeks were hot, his own cock leaking precome onto his belly.

‘Now?’

Courtenay nodded. Hal fell back onto the bed, fumbling for the oil to slick his cock. He could feel the residual burn of the ginger in his arse and it made him more desperate. Courtenay straddled him again and took hold of Hal’s cock to press it against his hole.

‘Ready?’ Courtenay said.

‘What do you think?’

Courtenay rolled his eyes fondly at Hal and lowered himself down, thighs trembling. Hal gritted his teeth at the slick, hot flesh enveloping his erection. His breath moved within him, he dug his fingers into the bedding, his head thrashing, and then Courtenay was there, his hands on Hal’s cheeks, his face so close that Hal could count the flecks of bronze in his eyes and the faint freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks.

‘I love you,’ Hal said.

Courtenay grinned at him, kissed him, and began to move. Hal lost his words, lost his mind – he could feel his feet slipping over the covers, bracing himself to thrust up into Courtenay as Courtenay’s hips rolled down against him. He held Courtenay to him, heard his gasping breath, and took Courtenay’s cock in hand, stroking it. Courtenay pressed his forehead to Hal’s, back arching.

‘So good,’ he said. ‘You feel wonderful in me, Hal. I love this, I love you.’

Hal trembled. His world was reduced to his body and to Courtenay. Heat flared through Hal at each word of praise, burning brighter than fire. His thrusts began to stutter, became clumsy. He cried out, fingers digging into Courtenay’s back, and then he was coming, hips surging up. Distantly, he heard Courtenay’s orgasm, felt Courtenay’s seed fall against his belly.

*

They laid curled together. Hal did not think he could move if he wanted to, his breath slow to steady. Courtenay’s fingers ran through his hair, over his face. He didn’t avoid the scar but he didn’t seek it out or linger over its grotesque lines. Courtenay raised his head, kissed Hal’s forehead, nose and then lips.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said.

‘No,’ Hal said.

Courtenay’s mouth twitched as if he would cry. Instead, he let out a loud sigh and rested his fingers against Hal’s lips. Hal kissed them.

‘You are,’ Courtenay said. ‘To me, you are the most beautiful thing in existence.’

Hal shook his head. He feared he would start crying himself.

‘If I believed anyone, it would be you,’ he said.

Courtenay smiled sadly. ‘I know.’

‘I believe you love me,’ Hal said as a kind of a peace offering.

‘Good,’ Courtenay said. ‘Because I do. And I like it when you let me take care of you. When you let me tell you all the things I feel about you. You deserve so much more than you let yourself have, Hal.’

‘Don’t.’

Courtenay’s gaze softened, he leant down and framed Hal’s face within his hands.

‘Alright,’ he said and kissed him again.


End file.
